


If This Is All, Then All Is Good

by afterandalasia



Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captivity, Coming Untouched, Community: disney_kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even with their bodies in chains, their minds and their voices remain free, Esmeralda says. And she will not let mere chains deprive her or Phoebus of the pleasure of what their wedding night would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If This Is All, Then All Is Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izzy41630](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=izzy41630).



> From the [prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/361.html?thread=2118761#t2118761) at Disney Kink.

The manacles bite into his wrists, the cold and dankness of the stone seeping through his tunic and pants to cling to his skin. Pheobus lets his eyes remain closed for a moment longer, then at the sound of shifting from the far side of the cell looks upwards once again.  
  
He can barely see Esmerelda from here; she is a silhouette, the faint light of the torches outside the cell painting lines of fire on her hair, making the slightest lines to mark her face. She has been changed into a plain linen shift -- the guards had knocked him unconscious when he threatened them for the things they said as they stripped her -- and he can faintly see it, ghost-like in the darkness.  
  
"Esmeralda?" he says. His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before trying again. "Esmeralda?"  
  
Her head shifts, the curls tumbling in flickers. "Phoebus?"  
  
Relief that she is conscious overwhelms him. With a soft sigh, Phoebus leans his head back against the wall, despite the trickle of damp that runs down his arm. "Well," he says finally, "I'm sorry that it had to be like this."  
  
She laughs, softly, the sound sweet and desperate both together. "At least we met. At least we were granted that much."  
  
"True, true... a pity that we could not have had more."  
  
"Would you live the life of a gypsy, soldier?"  
  
His voice softens. "I would for you."  
  
This time the chuckle that he hears is softer, fonder. Chains clink as Esmeralda shifts in place. "Quite the romantic. It's not an easy life, you know."  
  
"With you to come back to at night, it would not matter what the days hold."  
  
He hears her breath hitch in the darkness. "You would share a gypsy's bed, then, Phoebus?"  
  
A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine at the breathy, sensuous tone that has come into her voice. "I would share whatever the gypsy would allow me to. And I would give myself to that gypsy in return."  
  
"You would give her your heart?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You would give her your soul?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He hears her draw in her breath again, and wonders whether she can hear the pounding of his heart. "Would you give her your body?"  
  
His hands clench to fists. "Oh, yes."  
  
She moves, softly, then hisses out in pain -- it must be the chains on her wrists. A flare of anger rises in Pheobus like smoke, and he has to grit his teeth to not shout out at the guards or the judge or the world all over again. To end it like this. "Pity I'll never get the chance, huh?"  
  
"Hmm..." There is that note in her voice that sends a jolt through him again. "You know, it's only our bodies here. Our minds can go anywhere."  
  
"My mind's already in your bed, I think," he replies before he can think, but where he expects more laughter he recieves a soft moan. "Esmeralda?"  
  
"Tell me," she says. "Tell me what you would do on our wedding night."  
  
His heart pounds in his chest, and he can feel as well blood rushing to his groin. How can he articulate what he would give to her? Wetting his lips, Phoebus closes his eyes against the dark cell and in his mind wraps his fingers in her hair.  
  
"I could kiss you in front of them all," he says. "Kiss you on the cheek and the mouth, and out of sight I could already have my hand running over that tight arse of yours, round that slender waist. I already know your shape beneath your clothes."  
  
"I made you wait," she says with another soft laugh. "Just to see if you could, if you would. And all that the waiting has done is made me want you more."  
  
"The guests want to watch you dance," he adds. "But I drag you off before the celebrations have even finished. Let Clopin entertain them. I pull you into our bedchamber, already kissing you, already wanting you."  
  
"Are you already hard?" she says. He wonders whether she is licking her lips.  
  
He smirks. "Why do you think I pulled you away now? I can't go much longer without someone spotting it. I pin you up against the door, run my hands down you. You're wearing another of those dresses that clings to your skin, and I've been jealous that other men get to look. But no-one else gets to _touch_."  
  
"Tell me where you put your hands."

"I can't decide. I take hold of your breasts, let them fill my hands. They're warm and full and I rub them, letting my thumbs brush over your nipples. I kiss them through the fabric of your dress, use my tongue to make them wet." The words tumble forth from his desire. "The music outside is too loud for anyone to hear anyway."  
  
"That's a good thing. Because I'm already moaning when I feel your tongue on my breasts. The fabric clings to my skin as I run my hands over your back, then pull you up to kiss you, and at the same time I let my dress slip down to the floor."  
  
"Even better," he says. "Because that means that I can see your beautiful body, and I'll stop just long enough to look it all up and down. And then I'm going to lick my way down your neck, down between your breasts, and all the way down to your navel." He paused to hear her breathing, as harsh as his own in the closed room. "And then I'm going to kneel down and go from each knee upwards, right up to where your hips."  
  
"You're overdressed," she points out.  
  
"Then how about I let you take my clothes off as well?"  
  
"It's about time we did."  
  
"Are you wet already?"  
  
He can hear the smirk in her voice. "I've been wet since you kissed me in front of everyone. I've been trying not to let it show all evening how much I want to get into your bed."  
  
"Then maybe we should. I pull you over to the bed and let you lie down among the sheets. It's been worth the wait. I kiss you again as I slip my hand down between your thighs."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Tell me what I find there."  
  
A little whine comes out when she breathes. Phoebus wishes that he could get his hands free to hold her, or failing that to wrap one hand around the erection that is straining at his own lap.  
  
"Tell me," he says again, a little more insistent, a little more pleading.  
  
"I let your hand slide down across my belly," she says, "down, down. Your fingers part the black curls that cover my sex, slipping down across my skin. My slit is already slick; I've been waiting for this, for so long. I tilt my hips up towards you so that you can, oh god, so that you can explore me."  
  
"I'm doing just as you say." The words come out breathless.  
  
"I tell you to run your fingers over my clit; it isn't hard to find it. You can hear when your fingers touch it, I moan, and you continue. Every little circle you rub is like fire running through me, and I tell you not to stop." He can hear now that she is breathing hard, and can imagine the heat in her. He wonders whether she has her legs clamped tightly together, whether every little shift of her body is bringing her pleasure. "But you slide your hand down instead, and as I moan you put your finger into me. I can feel you inside me now, and I squeeze around you. You whisper in my ear how hot I feel, how wet, as slowly you begin to fuck me with your hand."  
  
He hears her gasp, wonders whether she is straining against the manacles as he is, whether she can all but feel his body as he can feel hers.  
  
"But I'm not going to let you have all the fun," she adds. "I'll reach down for you in return. Tell me what to do. Tell me."  
  
"Well, I'm pretty sure you've already got a good look," he says with a chuckle, and hears her laugh softly in time. "I'm already hard as you wrap your hand around my shaft -- my skin is already flushed, warm under your hand, as you stroke up and down." The rushing in his ears, the words that they speak, carry him far away from this hellhole. "Your fingers explore the head, making me groan, _yes, carry on_ , and as you trace over the slit, fingers already growing sticky, I cannot but admit that I want you."  
  
Esmeralda moans again, and it sends a jolt of need through him. He wonders what she might look like now, her face flushed, curls sticking to her cheeks, lips parted and red. "I couldn't agree more. I want you."  
  
"I pin you down into the sheets."  
  
"My legs wrap around your hips."  
  
"I lick the side of your neck, kiss your ear, as gently I nudge the head of my cock against your entrance."  
  
"Can't you tell that I want you now? My hips buck to meet you."  
  
She's panting; he realises a moment later that he is also, and it feels like he is trembling all over. "Then I bury myself to the hilt in you, deep in, feeling you."

"You fill me up, and I moan as you fuck me." There was moaning in her voice now, as if it were his words that were fucking her, as if they have hands and a mouth and a cock of their own. "I drag you closer, want you deeper in me."  
  
"The bed shakes as I take you, as we finally consummate our relationship. Again and again I plunge into you, hearing you moan as you writhe beneath me, and I whisper in your ear that I want to hear you scream."  
  
"I... oh fuck, Phoebus!"  
  
She cries out his name, and if he never hears a word again then to hear his name on her lips is enough. With a cry of his own, Phoebus spills his seed, relief rushing over him as his cock judders and twitches in his pants. He is breathing as if he has been running, his hands clenched into fists, bent at the waist as he feels the dampness spreading in his lap.  
  
For a while they sit in silence, both recovering their breathing.  
  
"I love you," Phoebus whispers, and is not sure if she hears.  
  
"Phoebus," she says, and his name again sends a little shudder through his body. "If this is all we have, it is enough."  
  
"It's a good way to go," he replies, and they share another soft laugh.  
  
"And believe me," she adds, and her voice is a purr that runs through him like velvet. "You were good." He can imagine her smile, a wink of those bright green eyes. "You were _very_ good."


End file.
